


The Games We Play

by cleo4u2



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Biting, Bucky's an idiot, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Stucky - Freeform, different POVs, exibitionism, gratuitous shooting of dildos, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky stalks Steve, so Steve gives his old lover a show to bring him in from the cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile). Encouraged by the lovely [Xantissa.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa)

Two months after the Triskelion, agonizing months where Steve forced himself not to chase after his former lover, Bucky breaks in and goes through everything he owns. Oh, he puts it back, but everything is a little...off. Steve never would have noticed if it hadn’t been for his sketch book going missing. Instead of in the kitchen, he finds it in his bedroom. On his bed, which is no longer perfectly made, but wrinkled like someone has lain on the covers.

Then Natasha bursts in, claiming Steve has to go into protective custody because the Winter Soldier has been caught on camera just down the street. Convinced Bucky is going to kill him, she argues vehemently against his orders to do nothing, but there is no threat. For weeks he has felt watched and now he knows why. If Bucky, or whatever is left of him, wants Steve dead, he would be already.

Eventually Natasha had left, but she’s far from convinced. When both she and Sam start coming by for more dinner/movie nights afterwards, he assumes it’s to keep an eye on him. Far from minding, Steve enjoys the company.

Even before S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, the Winter Soldier had been a ghost. Mostly that was the machinations of Hydra, and they are mostly gone now. However, he has been trained to be invisible. If he didn’t want to be found, no one would find him. So what does it mean that he has allowed himself be spotted near Steve’s apartment in D.C?

For the next week, every time Steve goes out, he returns to an apartment not quite the same as he remembers. He doesn’t mention this to Natasha or Sam, not wanting to panic them with the knowledge that the Winter Soldier is watching. Steve doesn’t mind; it’s comforting to know Bucky is watching his back. It makes it easier to fall asleep at night, especially since he’s leaving the windows unlocked.

Steve stops enjoying the game when he discovers the walls of his bathtub encrusted with a three inch deep ring of dirt and filth. The cause is easy to guess; Bucky had taken a shower and _this_ had come off his skin. It’s nauseating to think of his old lover without even basic necessities. Does he have enough food? Is he keeping warm?

Going to the balcony, he steps outside and, for the first time, tries to find his shadow. Across the street, the tapered roof of one brownstone meets the wall of the taller building beside, creating a pocket a grown man could lie down in and disappear. Even at noon, all Steve can see is the muzzle of a high-powered sniper rifle pointed at his chest. The rest of the gun and the man holding it are hidden in the deep shadows. If Bucky sees him, he doesn’t move, even with Steve staring directly at his hidey-hole.

Swallowing hard, Steve represses the desire to leap across the street below and confront whoever he would find on that roof. He has to let Bucky come to him, let him set the terms of whatever relationship they will have going forward. It’s just hard, especially now he guesses Bucky only leaves his nest when Steve leaves his apartment.

So if he wants Bucky to come in, he’ll have to leave.

Ducking back inside, Steve grabs a pair of jeans and one of the stylized black t-shirts Natasha had bought to ‘update his look’. Along with underwear and socks, he folds both and set them on the table. In the kitchen, he makes a plate of bologna sandwiches with mayo and lettuce (Bucky’s favorite), and sets them on the table with several bottles of water. He had just been for a run, but grabs his gym bag from his bedroom. Lastly, he tears a page from his sketchbook and writes ‘COME IN’ as large as he can and tapes the sign to the window where he knows Bucky can see.

With one last look at his shadow’s nest, Steve leaves for the gym he’d found his first few days in the future. He stays for two hours, working out the tension of not knowing what he will find when he gets home. The worry proves fruitless. The apartment is empty when he gets back, though the plate holds nothing but crumbs and the clothing is gone. Excitement wars with disappointment in Steve’s stomach, but at least he knows Bucky is all right.

After that, Steve leaves a meal for his stalker every time he goes out. It’s always consumed before he gets back. Any presents he leaves are also gone if Bucky deems them worthy. He lets Natasha pick the clothes, so that never remains. A phone is ignored (Steve had made sure Bucky could see his eye roll at that), as is the chai tea Sharon suggested.

The first time Bucky communicates is after Steve buys a modified Glock on recommendation from Sam. The gun itself is gone, but the ammunition Steve had purchased is still sitting on the table with a post-it note on top. Apparently, Bucky prefers a specific brand that Steve is unable to find at the local sporting goods store. He eventually finds it online and buys enough to fill a standard ammo can. Later, whenever they communicate, he’s never sure if he should tell Bucky how grateful he is no one turns up dead with matching bullet holes.

The second time Bucky leaves him a note, Steve comes home to find the books he’d left the week before stacked in a neat pile. Inside the book on top is a simple request for, “More.”

The third time is three months into their new relationship. It’s the first time since Bucky has started watching him that Steve doesn’t sleep through the night. He wakes to something flashing in his eyes and is nearly blinded when he opens them to a laser sight flashing across his retinas. Though it’s moved quickly, it still takes a moment for Steve to recover. When he does, he finds the laser is blinking on his lap. A moment later, he recognizes the pattern of Morse code.

Swallowing thickly, because it could only mean Bucky is _communicating_ , he uses the old signals utilised by the Howlies to tell Bucky to stop, start over. There’s a pause and then the dots and dashes start again spelling the warning clearly, “Six, first floor, Hydra.”

A myriad of questions explodes to life in Steve’s mind, but he doesn’t have time for them. He knows it isn’t a trap, though Natasha will scream at him later for trusting so blindly. Hydra is coming for him and he has to _move_. Finding his shield by the bed, he shoves his arm through the straps and ducks into the hallway. There isn’t even time to pull on his shoes, not if Bucky is desperate enough to wake him. At least he has taken to sleeping in pajama pants and a shirt so he isn’t naked for whatever comes.

At the front door he pauses, pressing his ear to the door to listen. Leather and cloth creak, someone coughs, a safety clicks off, and someone starts to turn the knob on his door. Steve takes a step back and kicks the door off its hinges, into the man’s face. A gun goes off, but the shield is up and it ricochets off into the apartment. Not giving them a chance to fire again, Steve leaps onto the fallen door, grinning with satisfaction as the man beneath screams in pain. Then he is among the other five, flinging kicks and punches, and dodging more of the same.

In the confusion, three more Hydra agents go down without a fuss. One of the remaining two drops his assault rifle, draws his handgun, and takes aim. Ducking behind his shield, Steve can’t see the other as he draws his knife and approaches from behind. Bucky can, not that Steve knows it, so he thinks it’s luck that keeps him from a severed spinal cord when the strike falls. A round rebounds off Steve’s shield and takes the knife-wielding goon in the thigh, making him stumble sideways so that his blade plunges three inches into Steve’s shoulder.

Gritting his teeth on a scream, Steve foolishly drops the cover of the shield to slam it over the agent’s head. Even then Lady Luck doesn’t forsake him. The gun pointed at his head clicks, slide jamming open on an empty magazine. A second later, the shield slams into the bastard’s throat and, gurgling, he falls to the floor.

Another door bangs open and Sharon sweeps the corridor, service weapon at the ready. The fight had taken all of forty-five seconds and no one is left standing but Steve. Still, she hurries to the stairs and sweeps them as well before returning to check on Steve.

“Who are they?” Sharon asks, boxing Steve against a wall and taking his arm. He tries to pull away, get back to his apartment so he can signal to Bucky he’s all right, but she isn’t having it. In the distance, he can hear sirens. Police and god knows who else. Though adrenaline still pumps through his veins, Steve is suddenly exhausted.

“Hydra. How bad is it?”

“For you? Not very,” she answers curtly. “Here goes.”

Steve does scream now as she pulls the knife free, the serrated blade doing as much damage coming out as it had going in.

“Sorry,” Sharon says, but she doesn’t _sound_ sorry. He forgives her anyway when she rips the bottom of her tanktop off and wraps it around his arm. “That’ll stop the bleeding, let your body recover. Anyone else would need at least a dozen stitches, so take it easy.”

“Yeah,” Steve says so she’d back off.

Pushing himself to his feet, he makes someone else scream when he walks over his broken door back into his apartment. At the table he stops, tips a two fingered salute at Bucky’s nest, and drops into a chair. He feels stupid now he’s acknowledged the sniper. Who’s to say Bucky even cares to know if he’s all right? There had been no reason to fear he’d get down from his nest as the cops showed up. Dropping the shield to the floor, he puts his head in his hands and waits for the storm to arrive.

Three hours later, the last law enforcement official goes tromping out his door. Someone had propped the remains against the mangled frame and he had wedged it back into place for now. It wouldn’t fool anyone, but the sound of it crashing in would wake the dead. Both Sam and Natasha had tried to talk him into coming home with them, or going to a hotel, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to leave. Bucky is here and that meant there is no place on Earth safer for Steve Rogers.

Exhausted and planning to fall face first into his bed, he walks down the hall and freezes as a red laser light shines through his window. It flashes on and off until Steve can wrangle his brain into translating the code.

“Window.”

Surprised, Steve walks to first of the two large windows in his bedroom and looks towards the nest. The little red dot of the laser flashes at him again.

“Off.”

“What?” Steve mumbles.

“Off,” flashes at him again.

Frustrated and confused, Steve turns to get a flashlight from a drawer to signal back when he notices where the laser is pointed. His chest.

“He’s got to be kidding,” Steve mutters.

When he looks up to confirm he’s gotten the code right, Bucky signals, “No,” followed by, “Off,” again. Apparently the Soldier has either bugged the place or has learned to read lips.

Licking those suddenly-dry lips, Steve pulls his shirt over his head. The red dot vanishes, but Steve can _feel_ Bucky’s gaze as the scope slides over his torso. The red dot appears again on his bicep, tended by a paramedic at his kitchen table while repeating - for the third time - the story of how he’d taken down six heavily armed men in his hallway.

“Knife,” he says aloud, assuming what Bucky wants to know. “I’m fine.”

From across the roof, he can feel Bucky’s scepticism when the laser travels over his torso in another sweep. It makes Steve feel giddy.

Either his own blood, or one of the Hydra goons’, had stained Steve’s sweats. When the laser dot stops there, Steve swallows, but isn’t surprised to watch, “Off,” flash over the cotton fabric. Steve almost refuses, his cock is starting to react inappropriately to this inspection. In the end he yanks them down because it’s _Bucky_ and he’s worried that Steve isn’t as all right as he claims.

The laser travels down each of Steve’s legs, then instructs him to turn around. Rolling his eyes, Steve obeys and stays that way for a minute before turning around again. The laser, which he’d expected to be off now that Bucky knows he’s okay, is pointed straight at his crotch. Meaning, Bucky had been staring at his ass.

That knowledge goes right to Steve’s cock, plumping in his underwear. The laser trembles, then vanishes. Steve sucks in a breath, disappointed and relieved in turns. However, before he can leave the window, the laser glows on his grey boxer briefs again.

Then it flashes, “Off.”

Bucky’s hands continue to tremble if the way the laser is now wiggling around Steve’s groin is any indication. It’s that unsteadiness that helps Steve decide. Faster than he’d decided to remove his sweats, he slips his thumbs under the elastic of his drawers and slowly pulls them down his hips.

The laser jumps, then jerks to the left and vanishes again. Breathing hard, Steve holds still to let Bucky look if he wants. Thirty seconds later it’s back, traveling slowly up the vein in Steve’s cock. It is, hands down, the strangest thing Bucky has ever done to him, and one of the hottest. Steve’s knees go weak and he has to lean against the window to keep his feet under him.

“Do you,” Steve licks his lips and the laser clicks off. “Do you want me to touch?”

Red light blinks from the roof.

“Yes.”

Steve’s head thunks against the window’s cool glass. Hopefully no one has a camera pointed at his window because there is no way he is backing down from this moment. It’s the first time he has had some semblance of a conversation with Bucky. It’s the first time he thought the Winter Soldier might remember what they once had together.

Wrapping his hand around his cock, Steve strokes slowly down to the base. The feeling is electric, but it’s nothing compared to the knowledge that Bucky is watching him. Loosely, he runs his hand back to the tip and twists, throwing his head back with a moan.

Spreading his legs, he shifts his hips into his grip as he strokes back down. The red laser hasn’t appeared again, but Steve knows Bucky is watching. His skin _itches_. Really, when he’d first felt eyes on him, Steve should have known it was Bucky. His body doesn’t respond to anyone else’s attention the way it does to that blue gaze. Even when he can’t see it, he _knows_.

Lips parted, breathing harder than when he took down the Hydra agents, Steve tightens his fist on his cock. The pain in his arm is nothing now. There’s only the cool window beneath his palm, the pleasure of his hand on his shaft, and the certain knowledge of Bucky’s eyes on him. He lets himself stroke a little faster, rolling his head on his neck as the pleasure becomes sharper. He wants to keep this slow, draw it out; Bucky always liked that.

It still doesn’t take long. He hasn’t allowed himself this since Bucky came back, and he hasn’t gotten laid since 1943. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have been able to last. It’s a show, but a show for _Bucky_. Steve comes with a choked cry, pushing his knuckles into his mouth to quiet it. Without the support, his knees collapse and he ends up sitting on his ankles, painting the wall beneath his window with semen.

The exhaustion returns with his release and he barely has the strength to look back out the window. There is no red light. No, there’s something better. In the moonlight, a man clad in blue jeans and a familiar black and white shirt stands in the middle of a roof, pointing a rifle at Steve’s window. He isn’t moving.

They stare at each other until Steve grins and falls backwards, letting his legs flop out to the sides ungracefully. He doesn’t get up again, too tired, too spent to make it the three feet to the bed. Remembering Bucky always fretted when he was hurt, though, he holds up his hand over the window sill, ring-finger and thumb pressed into a circle, the other three standing straight up.

“A-Okay, Buck,” Steve mumbles to himself.

 

A red laser flashes on his hand, then disappears. Steve laughs and falls asleep where he lies, with the feeling of blue eyes on his skin.

* * *

Over the next month, they repeat that scene three more times, only without the Hydra agents. Bucky will wake him up, have him take off his clothes, and Steve will jerk off. It’s the only time he sees a sign of the Soldier. He doesn’t stop leaving him gifts and food, but the one-sided sex has added a new dimension to their relationship.

At first, Steve thinks that _surely_ Bucky will come to him now. He even talks to Tony, preparing a defense to make sure _no one_ can put Bucky back in a cage. The copies of the documents and blueprints Steve leaves out disappear, but the man himself continues to be elusive.

The game itself is starting to become irritating. Steve catches himself staring at the sniper’s nest, wondering what would happen if next time Bucky asked him to masturbate he jumped the roof instead. Would he run from Steve? Or would he let Steve fuck him there on the roof top? As much as he wants it to be the latter, he thinks it will be the former. Whatever game they're playing, Bucky will only participate from a distance. For a while, that was fine. Now Steve wants more. He wants to fall asleep with a warm body in his bed other than his own. He wants to cook food for someone he can talk to. He wants to see the eyes he's only felt for nearly half a year.

The fourth time he's woken up by Bucky's laser sight, he doesn't climb out of bed. Fixing his gaze on Bucky’s nest, he sighs with the realization that he can't keep letting this happen. Nothing will change if _he_ doesn't change it.

“Is there a threat?” he asks the empty room.

“No,” Bucky’s morse code replies, “Window.”

Steve clenches his jaw.

“Come inside.”

“No,” Bucky signals. “Window.”

“I'm tired of coming alone,” Steve declares, “Come inside.”

“No.”

Steve could hit something.

“Why?!” he demands, but there's no one there to hear him. The red light doesn't answer. Steve rolls over, facing away from the window so Bucky can't wake him if he wants to. He had no idea it was possible to fight without even talking.

* * *

 

For the next week, Steve stomps around his apartment. He avoids watching the sniper’s nest, makes extra plans with Sam and Nat, and sleeps turned away from the windows at night. It's petty, but Steve's hurt and angry and tired of his shadow’s bullshit. He doesn't even know if it's _Bucky_ out there as there's no guarantee that the remnants of his former lover's body still retains memories of him. Maybe he just thinks Steve is hot. A lot of people seem to hold that opinion, which is why he stays off all social media platforms.

When he comes home from his run Sunday, there’s a wrapped package and a card waiting on his dining room table. Since they started fighting, Steve hasn’t left Bucky any gifts, but he wasn’t about to deny him food. He’s been pleased to see the empty plates when he comes home, but this is something else. This is a little like the contact he’s been craving.

His momma raised him right, so Steve opens the card first. It’s simple: white background, black text. The front reads simply, “This sucks,” and the two words manage to take up most of the empty space. Taking a deep breath to steady himself (he can feel his skin itching), he opens the card and can’t control his reaction like he’d planned. “I love you,” is printed in the middle of the card with, “and I’m sorry,” just beneath that. Steve manages to just yank a chair beneath him as his legs lose the ability to support himself.

It takes Steve a few moments to get control of himself. He scans for anything else, a more personal note, but that’s all there is. It’s not enough and yet it’s _everything_. Bucky, his or any other, would not buy _this_ card unless he meant what it said. Which means that part of the Winter Soldier has to remember him, doesn’t it? You can’t fall in love with someone you’ve never met.

Getting up, Steve walks to the window and presses his hand to the cold glass. He stares at the sniper’s nest for the first time in a week. It’s not quite a surprise when he sees movement, watches Bucky scramble from the shadows to show himself in broad daylight. It’s a peace offering. It’s not what Steve wants, but Bucky is trying.

Letting his head fall forward, he hits his forehead lightly against the glass. He debates not answering the declaration made in the card. Even with the apology, he’s still a little ticked off. If Bucky remembers him, remembers _them_ , and loves him, why won’t he come inside? He doesn’t understand, but he does know this is an offering. If it’s all Bucky can give, Steve will take it.

Opening his eyes again, he sees Bucky has crept even closer to the edge of the roof.

“Are you listening?” Steve asks and smiles when the figure nods. “Good. As long as you’re over there, I can’t tell you I love you. I loved a man who died, or who I thought died, and I’ve mourned him for years. Maybe you’re him, maybe you’re not, but you’re something better. I don’t know. I can’t know because you’re over there. One day, you’ll come over here and we’ll figure it out, but until then I need you to know just one thing. I’ll wait. However long you need me to wait, I will. Probably get pissed at you again because you’re a massive jerk, but that would happen if you were over here anyways. So, I forgive you. Just don’t forget I’m waiting for you.”

Sighing, Steve tapped his forehead against the window and closed his eyes again.

“I just miss you so much and you’re still just out of reach.”

When he opens his eyes, Bucky’s hidden from sight again.

The gift turns out to be a sketch pad and some expensive charcoal pencils. Steve uses the gift to draw Bucky on the roof. He’s not ashamed to say he stares at it for an inordinate amount of time. It’s the closest they’ve been since Bucky pulled him from the Potomac.

Bucky doesn’t stop buying the cheesy greeting cards. The next day there’s one with a picture of a beef jerky stand on the front. Printed inside is, “Sorry for being a jerk!” There’s romantic cards and funny cards, anything that seems to make Bucky think of Steve.

It’s sweet until he leaves one that simply says, “I miss you,” on the front. He doesn’t bother reading the inside. Glaring at the spot he knows Bucky’s lying in, Steve slowly tears the paper in half.

“I’m. Right. _Here_ ,” he growls.

There’s no movement on the rooftop and that night he sleeps with his back to the window. The next morning when he gets back from his run, Steve finds another card, this time placed next to his pillow. It’s a simple yellow sad face and it nearly makes him cry. Not the card, but that Bucky was _in his room_ and he hadn’t known.

So close. Always just out of reach. Always falling away from him. Steve knows he’ll wait forever, but it still hurts.

The card sails across the room and Steve takes a shuddery breath. If Bucky can make it into his apartment with Steve in it, all he’s gotta do is make the man want to stay. It might be pointless, but he thinks he might know how to offer something Bucky can’t resist. He can only hope he’s right.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky knew he had fucked up. Things had been going so well, so god damned well, and then Steve just had to press for more. After giving him something Steve had never given his old self, he’d pushed for something Bucky didn’t think he could give. Not that he’d asked exactly what Steve wanted, but he couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing Steve. And he would. Steve deserved the whole shtick: marriage kids, settling down in a little house to be a family. Marriage was out; he didn’t believe in God any more. No one with any sanity would let him around kids, and the thought of settling down made him want to crawl out of his skin. Being in an apartment, or home, with his name on the lease and a million ways to be tracked down by whoever the fuck wanted to? No thanks. There was no guarantee he would ever want any of that.

On the other hand, he also didn’t want Steve mad at him. If the way he’d thrown Bucky's second apology of the week across the room was any indication, he was plenty pissed off. Yes, okay, so the ‘I miss you’ card wasn’t terribly thought out, but it was _true_ and he was trying. Steve said he would wait, but Bucky isn’t so sure. Maybe it’s too selfish for him to even ask that of Steve.

The thing is, for over seventy years Hydra had tried to take everything from him. In some ways, they had succeeded, but he was reclaiming as much of himself as he could. He didn’t _keep_ it all, not the bits he didn’t want anymore, but that was _his choice_ now. Steven Grant Rogers was his choice to keep, and giving up without a fight was never Bucky’s style.

When Steve gets up, Bucky lowers the rifle scope from his eye and rolls onto his back to stare up at the sky. It’s a grey day, but it’s not raining and Bucky loves to stare at the sky as much as he likes to watch Steve. He knows Steve’s routine by heart, and so he doesn’t have to watch. It’s Sunday, so Steve will take a shower, get dressed, and then putter around the house until noon when he’ll go for a run with Sam. Bucky has to make a decision. Either go across the street and _try harder_ , or wait and see if Steve will really let him stay away. The former is a daunting prospect. The latter could potentially end with him losing Steve, and that is unacceptable.

For the next hour, Bucky stares at the sky and tries to decide what he should do. He lists the pros and cons of each decision, tries to run down the best and worst scenarios for his choices, but is no closer to an answer when he rolls back over and picks up the rifle. Maybe if he looks at Steve, he’ll know better what to do.

Through the scope, he immediately determines that something is off. Instead of sitting in the living room or dining room, he’s in the kitchen piling the last of several sandwiches onto a plate. They’ll be for him, which means Steve is planning on leaving. He’s not in those tight running shorts that cling to his ass so Bucky knows he’s not going running early. The hat gives him a hint, but when Steve goes to the door and pulls on his jacket Bucky knows he’s going someplace public. This, after all, is what Steve thinks counts as a disguise. Maybe it would be if he’d ever learned to blend into crowds, but it’s not.

Cursing to himself for not paying more attention, Bucky hesitates before scrambling from his perch and uses a fire escape at the back of the building to reach street level. It’s a sprint to the corner, then he has to walk, calmly or be spotted, back to Steve’s building. He almost doesn’t see him, but Steve has only gotten a few houses down by the time Bucky is on his tail.

Either Steve doesn’t care if Bucky followed, or he doesn’t know to watch for someone following him because it’s stupidly easy to track him. It always has been, though, so Bucky doesn’t know why it surprises him every time. Just like he doesn’t know why it hasn’t surprised him Steve doesn’t own a car and walks everywhere like they did in New York. He’s got the money, so it’s not that, but if he has to be somewhere quickly, either Natasha or Sam always give him a lift. Bucky has been tempted to buy him a motorcycle, but really isn’t sure what’s appropriate in a gift any more. He doesn’t want to freak Steve out.

Steve apparently has no issue freaking _him_ out because he walks to a strip mall and straight into a modern sex shop, squashed between a donut shop and a hair salon. Like everywhere else these days, it’s open 24/7 and Bucky does not know why that’s necessary. They ask for ID to double-check his age, and Captain America calmly hands over his driver’s license to the clerk, making the poor girl nearly drop the square of plastic when she recognizes the name and photo. Then Steve goes into the back and Bucky can’t see what he’s doing, who he’s talking to, or if Steve is in any danger. He also can’t go inside because they’ll ask _him_ to prove he’s over 18, and there’s no way Steve will miss that, not when he so clearly wants Bucky to come to him.

Whatever Steve is doing takes a half-hour. Bucky is very nearly to breaking point and thinking of storming the shop when he leaves with a large black bag in one hand. This is somehow even worse because it means Steve just bought something at a sex shop and Bucky hasn’t a clue what. More importantly, he doesn’t know _why_. If Steve wasn’t pissed off at him it would be a good thing, but he is so what is he doing?

Three separate times on the way back, Bucky almost stops Steve to get an answer. He figured out Steve’s patterns ages ago and he’s broken them for this? Bucky figured out months ago that Steve keeps religiously to those patterns _for him_. Steve had never gone looking for him, but he had made it effortless to be found, followed. It was the main reason he followed Steve everywhere Natasha or Sam weren’t. Steve had made himself vulnerable _for him_ and he would be damned if he let anything happen because of that. Now he doesn’t know who to protect, himself or Steve.

They arrive at the apartment before Bucky can figure it out. That’s when Steve turns and looks straight at him in his black denim and gifted shirt. Bucky doesn’t know when he was spotted, had been sure Steve was oblivious to his presence, and now he doesn’t know what to do. Instead of looking annoyed, Steve just smiles a little and motions towards his home. It’s an invitation, “Come in, come inside, come home.” Bucky’s tempted. He has the papers Steve left him, the ones with the Stark logo all over them, saying no one can put him in a cage again. No one except himself.

In the end, he shakes his head, braces himself for Steve’s anger again. Instead, Steve rolls his eyes like Bucky is an idiot and goes in alone. Maybe he’s right. One of the hottest men on the planet just left a sex store, invited him inside, and he refused because he has commitment issues. 

On review, he’s definitely an idiot.

Still, Bucky sprints back to his nest instead of after Steve. He’s frightened of taking this last step, of making the choice to be himself, or someone he wants to be. He’s not sure which, and that scares him, too. Steve scares him. The thought of losing him is debilitating. Sometimes Bucky thinks it was easier when he was just the Soldier. Then, his only fear was the chair.

On his roof, he slides into his spot between roofs and gets the scope to his eye in time to watch Steve close the door. He must have stopped to talk to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent across the hall, or the old lady on the first floor. Or maybe he walked slowly. Maybe he wanted Bucky to see all this and isn’t _that_ a thought? What else has Steve done deliberately, just for him?

The black bag is set unopened on the couch and Steve strips out of the jacket and cap. In the kitchen, he goes to the dining room table and tips the plate, looking out the window at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. His stomach protests and agrees with Steve, he should have grabbed something to eat. Steve just shakes his head after a moment, wraps the plate in cellophane, and tucks it in the fridge.

To Bucky’s surprise and frustration, Steve ignores the bag for the rest of the day. His routine goes back to normal, turning like clockwork on the hour, or half hour, like there had been no previous deviation. Bucky gets to eat the sandwiches when Steve leaves for his run. The black bag has a note on it reading, “Don’t touch!”, and Bucky can’t bring himself to break Steve’s trust, so it remains a mystery.

When night falls, Steve _finally_ picks up the bag and carries it to the bedroom. Bucky is immediately tense, watching as he sets it on the bed and then goes to the window. He looks right at Bucky's spot, and the intensity of his look sends shivers down his spine. Bucky focuses on his lips, knowing he needs to know whatever Steve says next.

The full lips form the words, “I want you to remember that I wanted _you_ here.”

Bucky wonders if he’s allowed to change his mind.

As if reading his mind, he watches as Steve says, “The door’s unlocked if you decide you want the same thing.”

Taking a step back from the window, he keeps his eyes on Bucky's nest and pulls his shirt over his head. After the run with Sam, he changed into baggy sweats and a simple white undershirt that’s left his well-muscled arms available to Bucky's gaze all day. Now he gets to see all the muscles of Steve’s impressive torso, the trim waist, and it doesn’t stop there. Next, Steve pulls down his sweats and Bucky's mouth goes dry as he realizes Steve’s been walking around without underwear for the better part of the day. Steve’s cock is half hard already, and filling out under Bucky's gaze as if it knows he’s looking.

Licking his lips, Bucky tries to remember why he didn’t want to join Steve. He may have remembered, but Steve turns around and pulls a long, rectangular red box from inside the black bag. It’s placed on the bed out of Bucky's line of sight and a bottle of lube follows, set on the dresser. The bag is dropped onto the floor and a few moments later the box is thrown unceremoniously into a corner.

When he turns around, Steve has a long, brilliant red dildo in his hand. Bucky finally understands the plan and he knows it will work. There’s no way he can sit here, watch Steve fuck himself, and do nothing.

Thumbing the laser sight, he catches Steve’s attention and signals, “No.”

Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction.

“You don’t have the right to stop me. Either get over here and do it yourself, or don’t watch. I’m not making you.”

Except they both know he can’t do _that_ either.

Biting hard at his lip, Bucky hesitates before signaling, “No,” once more.

This time, Steve doesn’t even acknowledge him. He lies down on the bed, settles himself comfortably, and spreads his legs obscenely wide. The answering ache in Bucky's groin is immediate, but then Steve is picking up the dildo and Bucky's finger twitches. It’s not _exactly_ an accident, but it’s not a conscious thought either to send a bullet through the toy, splitting it in half. The projectile continues on, through Steve’s dresser and buries in the brick of the wall, but Bucky isn’t even looking any more.

The second he realized he had fired, Bucky is up and sprinting across the roof before the crack of the rifle registers in his ears. He doesn’t bother with the fire escape, drops to the sidewalk across from Steve’s building, slides over the hood of a silver Nissan parked in the street, and takes the stairs two at a time to Steve’s apartment. As promised, the door is unlocked and he slows only a little to get through. The apartment looks different from this angle, but he easily finds his way down the hall to Steve’s bedroom.

Steve is sitting cross-legged on the bed now, staring thoughtfully at him when he slides to a stop past the threshold. Now that he’s here, Bucky doesn’t know what to say, and the way Steve is looking at him is also not what he expected after punching two bullet holes into his home and another two into his bedside table. What he does know is that retreating isn’t an option now. He may be an idiot, but that’s clear enough.

Swallowing hard, Bucky swings the rifle off his back and sets down it in the corner. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Steve doesn’t move, just sits there with his head propped on his hand, elbow on his knee. Watching the way Bucky had watched him for months.

“You shot at me,” he says calmly.

“Not at you,” Bucky says quickly, because he didn’t. “If I was shooting at you, I’d have hit you.”

Steve’s smile is amused as he asks, “Don’t like the color red?”

“Don’t like you needing anything but me,” Bucky replies. It’s more honesty than he wanted to offer, but he _did_ put a bullet in Steve’s wall. “You weren’t going to stop.”

“No,” Steve agrees.

Climbing off the bed, Steve walks to him, hooks his hand behind Bucky's neck, and pulls him into a deep kiss. It’s one hell of a hello. 

Responding in kind, Bucky grabs Steve by the shoulders and turns them. Stepping between Steve’s legs, he upsets the man’s balance and shoves him back against the door. There’s no resistance. Steve goes where he wants him to, leaning back against the door with his arms around Bucky's neck to keep their lips together. He thinks Steve might let him do whatever he wants. 

Bucky nips at Steve’s full lower lip, he gasps and Bucky pushes his tongue into his mouth. Not backing down, Steve’s tongue fights back and they battle back and forth, learning each other’s taste all over again. While their mouths are occupied, their hands are busy. Bucky squeezes Steve’s ass, fingers slipping between the crack and earning deep moans. Steve’s hands work beneath the shirt he’d given Bucky and he yanks it over his head. 

It’s the first time they break the kiss, and they still for a moment as Steve’s eyes take in the arm, the scars, and just what Hydra had done to him. A myriad of emotions flash through Steve’s eyes - rage, pain, despair, shock, guilt - and then vanish. He lays his trembling hand over the joint of flesh and metal and meets Bucky's gaze again. The emotion he reads there is a promise of vengeance that does twisty things to Bucky’s stomach.

Knowing Steve is going to say something sweet and honest and true, Bucky grabs his wrist and yanks him toward the bed. Instead of pushing Steve onto the perfectly good mattress, he shoves him face first into the wall by the bedside table. Like before, Steve goes where Bucky wants and it’s intoxicating. He also doesn’t say whatever stupid thing he was going to say, which was Bucky’s intention.

Grabbing two handfuls of Steve’s ass, he presses himself against the length of Steve’s back. Moaning, Steve pushes his ass into Bucky's hands while twisting his neck and pulling Bucky into yet another kiss. With the lube in reach, Bucky wastes no time slicking his fingers and pushing one into Steve’s tight hole. 

“Shit,” Steve curses in response to the invasion, breaking their kiss. 

Bucky smirks and curls the finger just so, and Steve curses again, louder, hips bucking to try and get more of the digit inside him. 

“Oh my God,” Steve gasps, “You do remember.”

“Like anyone could forget this ass,” Bucky says confidently. 

Crooking his fingers again the way Steve likes it, he’s gratified to see Captain America melt into the wall. As he fucks his fingers into Steve, the man gasps and comes undone in turns. It was once Bucky’s favorite thing to do, just this until his Stevie was a writhing, moaning mess. His record had been getting Steve to come four times, just on his fingers, but Bucky doesn’t think either of them has the patience for that tonight. At two fingers, Steve is nowhere near ready and already begging for Bucky’s cock. 

“No fuckin’ patience,” Bucky teases. “Need one more finger, Stevie.”

“Can’t wait any more,” Steve wriggles that firm ass at him. “Please, Bucky. I can take it.”

Maybe he can, so Bucky pulls his fingers free. The empty feeling makes Steve whine, but he pushes his ass back even higher. To make Steve hold still, Bucky sinks his teeth into the joint of his neck and shoulder. Shouting in surprise, Steve goes limp long enough for Bucky to pull his cock from his jeans, and stroke lube down the shaft. Then he wraps his metal arm tight about Steve’s waist to hold him steady as he guides the head into Steve’s tight hole.

“Bucky,” Steve sobs, “Bucky, please, Buck-”

Then he shouts as Bucky pushes in completely, and trembles in his embrace. Fully sheathed in Steve, Bucky wraps his flesh arm around Steve’s chest and pulls, forcing the lean muscles to stretch and arch against him. Crying out, Steve clutches at Bucky’s arms and then again, louder, when Bucky starts to move. With the position he’s in, all Steve can do is take it as Bucky fucks him, thrusting hard and fast, revelling in the cries he draws from Steve’s lips. 

When he gets close, Bucky growls, “Gonna come soon. You gonna come with me?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve gasps. “Come inside me, Buck.”

Biting down on Steve’s shoulder again, Bucky deepens the mark he’d left earlier and makes Steve cry out in pleasured pain. Bucky pushes Steve back against the wall, drops his flesh hand to Steve’s angry red cock and squeezes. Body shuddering violently, Steve shouts his name and comes from that alone. 

Hearing his name cried out like that does it for Bucky. He bites down harder, tastes blood, and comes. Steve’s tight hole milks him for every drop, moans leaving him softly all the while. He doesn’t try to stand, legs trembling, relying on Bucky to keep them upright. It’s not difficult, even if Bucky’s own legs are protesting as he does.

After pulling out and tucking himself back into his jeans, Bucky lifts Steve easily and carries him to the bed. Sliding Steve under the covers, he goes to tuck him in when Steve’s large hand closes over Bucky's forearm.

“Don’t go,” he pleads. 

Bucky swallows. There’s no turning back, he knows that now. If he fucks this up, it’s over. 

“Staying is terrifying,” he confesses quietly.

The warm hand tightens on him, then starts to let go. Quickly covering it with his metal hand, he presses until Steve holds on again. Only then can his heart calm down.

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve asks quietly.

“To be yours,” Bucky answers. Once again, it's more truth than he had wanted to give, but with the words between them he can dare to meet Steve’s eyes again. “To stop hurting you.”

Those eyes crinkle with pleasure, or amusement, or both. 

“We’re making good headway towards both of those.”

“What do you want?” Bucky thinks to ask.

“Besides you doing that again?” Steve teases, then sobers to say, “I want to give you a chance to live however you want, no strings, no Hydra.”

“How’s me fucking you tie in with that?” Bucky demands, crass because it’s not what he wanted to hear. It’s nice, fantastic actually, but it sounds too much like something Steve has been practicing in his head. Like something he’d say because he thought Bucky would want to hear it. It makes him feel contrary.

“Well,” Steve’s hand travels from his arm to his wrist and back up, “I’m hoping I’ll be one of those choices you make.”

“You already are,” Bucky admits, mollified because that was closer to the answer he wanted. “That’s why I found you again. That’s why I...let you know I was here.”

Steve’s eyes shine at that. It’s an expression he remembered, but he had thought it was personal bias. Apparently it’s not; they actually shine.

“So you’ll stay? Give us another shot?”

Bucky squirms.

“Is this a condition of letting me fuck you again?”

A laugh bubbles from Steve’s chest and Bucky can’t help but smile at the sound.

“No, you get that reward just for showing up. For now.”

“Let me think about the first part?”

Steve cocks his head to the side.

“And what about giving us a shot?”

“I wouldn’t have fucked you if I wasn’t willing to,” Bucky says, “I remember… You were real particular about sex and love back in the day.”

“Still am,” Steve says.

 _That’s_ what he’s been wanting to hear. Mouth dry, Bucky makes himself cover the strong fingers of Steve’s hand with his own flesh ones, then brings them to his lips for a kiss.

They’re staring into each other’s eyes, but before Bucky can promise to stay, to _try_ , someone kicks in the front door. Alarmed, Bucky quickly pulls the Glock Steve gave him and turns towards the bedroom door. Keeping the weapon handy was why he’d left his pants on, and now there’s a good reason to have it.

Except Steve is saying, “No, Bucky, no,” and Bucky can hear more than one set of footsteps. Steve isn’t going for his shield, he’s reaching for Bucky with his palms up as if _he’s_ the threat here. As if whoever is coming isn’t a threat to _Steve_.

Heart kicking up a notch, Bucky darts a look, filled with the growing horror he can’t control, at the man he just fucked.

“What did you _do?_ ” he demands, voice filled with the force of this betrayal.

Steve’s face crumples.

“No, I didn’t, Bucky please,” he begs, but there’s the Falcon kicking in the bedroom door. He rolls in, pointing not one, but two sub machine guns at Bucky. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and Black Widow sweep in behind him, both with pistols trained unerringly at him. They’re shouting for him to drop his weapons, stand down. He’s trapped, the only way out in one piece is to fight, shoot Steve’s friends, break them if they try to stop him. There’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind he would win if he did. Except he can’t. It doesn't matter that all this was some long con, the Stark documents and everything else a lie, or a game Steve played to bring him in. It doesn't matter because he is in love with Steve Rogers. Even now he can’t hurt those threatening him because they are Steve's friends.

The world slows down, sounds muting. Bucky judges the distance between himself and the window, thinks he can make it, but not without significant injury. The supplies on the roof will have to be abandoned and he’ll have to get a car as soon as he hits the pavement because the Widow and Falcon will be be only seconds behind him. His heart clenches painfully because he won’t be coming back. 

Flicking his gaze to Steve, who is shouting something at the other three, he debates firing over their heads and letting it end. The Widow will make it quick; he won’t feel a thing. It’s a cowardly way out, but it’s an option, and what matters is that he has options. No matter what, they won't make him a prisoner again.

Then the guns pointed at him are being lowered, slowly. It’s not logical, but it’s an opening Bucky can use to jump out the window. He takes a half step that way and realizes Steve is talking to _him_ now. He should just go, but it’s Steve so he swallows and forces himself to listen.

“Bucky, Bucky, just put the gun down,” Steve sounds as panicked as Bucky feels. How many times has he said that before Bucky started to listen? He shakes his head now, acknowledging the words as well as refusing the request. 

“Okay,” Steve says quickly and moves like he’s going to step between all the armed, trigger-happy people. The sudden agitation Bucky feels at this incredibly stupid thing is communicated with his body language as Steve freezes and the Widow’s gun comes back up. Bucky’s chances of getting through the window without severe injury revert back to zero.

“Nat,” Steve says warningly.

This time, she ignores him so Steve turns his focus back on Bucky.

“No one is going to make you do anything, okay? You and Nat can stand there as long as you want. I’m going to put some pants on, Sharon’s going to call off the cavalry, and Sam’s gonna make us something to drink.” 

Steve gives his friends his best ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look. 

“Then everyone can explain why they’re in my apartment.”

Bucky is confused enough by that that he stays put while Steve grabs his sweats and tugs them back on. When they had burst in, Bucky was certain Steve had activated some alarm. Steve’s friends are here to take him in, aren’t they? If not, he’s going to have to buy Steve another card.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent slowly pulls a cell phone from her pocket and Bucky lets her back into the hallway. Sam glances once more in his direction before following, and Bucky can soon hear him moving about the kitchen. For her part, the Widow doesn’t blink as she stares at him over her gun’s sights. It’s oddly calming.

“Nat,” Steve says tiredly.

“The D.C. shotspotter recorded a high caliber rifle being fired outside your apartment. I called Sharon, she knocked, didn’t get an answer. Then she heard you scream. We thought you were being tortured, so we brought the whole gang.”

“Flattered,” Bucky growls. 

“I told you I didn’t call them,” Steve snaps at him before the Widow can respond.

Shuffling guiltily, Bucky hesitates and then lowers the muzzle of his Glock. To his surprise, the Widow follows suit and they tuck their weapons away at the same time. Steve’s exhale of relief is audible in the ensuing silence.

“Nat?”

Bucky can’t figure out how he keeps communicating whole sentences just by saying her name. Yet she nods and deliberately turns her back on him to walk to the living room with the others. Pushing both his hands into his hair, Bucky hasn’t a clue what he’s supposed to do next.

Slowly, as if he might spook, Steve approaches Bucky with his hands in plain sight. When Bucky stills and faces him, Steve smiles, steps closer, and hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Bucky's jeans. Still feeling guilty, he lets himself be pulled close and tentatively rests his hands on Steve’s hips.

“They’re just overprotective, a little like someone else I know,” Steve explains as if Bucky had asked a question.

“They’re good for you,” Bucky assures, even though it’s not related to Steve’s statement.

“So, stay?” Steve asks and he looks so precious with his uncertainty.

Bucky takes a shaky breath, but nods firmly.

“Until you’re sick of me.” 

Glancing at the door, he loses most of his confidence. 

“Do I have to go out there?”

Steve laughs. At him, but that’s okay.

“Only if you want.”

It’s nice of Steve to basically give him a way out, but Bucky knows Steve would want him to get along with his friends.

“Then introduce me properly this time.”

Steve’s smile is brilliant. He hands Bucky his shirt and pulls him towards the bedroom door. Bucky goes, even if Steve’s friends are armed and just pointed guns at him. He’ll try to be nice, make friends. It’s Steve; he’ll do whatever he can to make him happy, he just doesn’t always get it right the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference for the shot spotter mentioned in this chapter: [link ](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gunfire_locator)

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u.tumblr.com/)


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